


Breathless

by wednesday



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dragon Age: Inquisition Quest - Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts, M/M, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Under-negotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:00:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23630473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wednesday/pseuds/wednesday
Summary: A slight change of plans in the Winter Palace.
Relationships: Dorian Pavus/Cullen Rutherford
Comments: 3
Kudos: 116
Collections: Smut 4 Smut 2020





	Breathless

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Penknife](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penknife/gifts).



Cullen is supposed to be the one to distract the guards, but Dorian does get rather bored of pretending he has some reason to stand around that particular hallway. So, by complete coincidence that is not at all Dorian’s fault, a couple of equally bored serving maids chat up the guards and lead them away for a roll in the hay or maybe a poisoning – it’s starting to seem just as likely here in Orlais as it would be at a party back home. He’s not all that interested which one it ends up being. Either way it’s an entirely more effective distraction than any war story, though Dorian is willing to keep silent on that to spare their valiant commander’s feelings. 

Dorian is quite obviously rifling through the documents in the office behind the horridly decorated trophy room when Cullen joins him. He looks so adorably put out by the change of plan. 

“The guards are gone,” Cullen says and looks at the pile of papers in Dorian’s hands. “We shouldn’t tarry, I’ve no idea how soon they’ll return.” 

“Oh, there’s no need for that, I’m sure they shall be occupied for some time.” 

“How do you–” Cullen starts, then looks at Dorian with obvious suspicion. “It was you. The Inquisitor’s plan was very clear. You should have waited for me.” There’s disapproval in his voice, but the fondly exasperated kind, which Dorian doesn’t have much experience with and isn’t sure what to do about. 

“I’ve no idea what you mean, Commander, I’m sure I had nothing to do with it. Certainly no one can prove otherwise.” 

“What have you done?” 

“Nothing at all! Obviously I had someone else do all the work. Besides– Aha!” Dorian waves the innocuous paper in the air victoriously. “Here we are, one set of vague but sufficiently incriminating orders.” 

“Dorian. Well, I suppose it did work out for the best.” Cullen tries to look stern, but Dorian knows him too well to be fooled by now – he can tell Cullen’s also barely suppressing a smile. 

Cullen comes closer and inspects the document briefly without taking it from Dorian and nods his approval. Dorian’s almost disappointed at how easy this all has been. He was half expecting secret tunnels, magical traps and an assassination attempt or two. Well, beyond the one they’ve just gathered proof of. 

“Of course it did, it was my plan! And really, I do think the original plan did not include you spending so much time extracting yourself from the clutches of your admirers. Did I hear something about marriage offers already? Scandalous!” Dorian is only teasing, but Cullen’s expression slowly transforms into embarrassment and then, hilariously, into the exact look of a startled woodland creature. The harmless kind and not a lion as Dorian’s heard the Orlesians refer to him. 

“I, well– That wasn’t. Those people are all _mad_.” The bewilderment is endearing. Dorian almost believes Cullen has no idea how good he looks when dressed up and not fresh off a muddy battleground. Not that Dorian would push him out of a bed when disheveled and splattered with blood, either. If they ever manage to get to a bed – something Dorian is not at all certain about. So far circumstances and Cullen’s extremely industrious minions have conspired to interrupt them to the point where the most daring thing they’ve shared between them is a few heated kisses. 

“I wouldn’t– I mean, I would never, you must believe me–” 

_Oh._ This isn’t something Dorian expected at all. He wants to assure Cullen that there’s nothing to explain, that he has no claim on him and would not expect to. But, oh, Cullen clearly thinks Dorian _does_ have the right to concern himself with his other admirers. It’s, well– Dorian can’t quite deny it’s a very tempting thought. He’s honestly surprised at how affected he is by this knowledge – that Cullen considers them so intimate. 

Still, it’s almost painful to watch Cullen stammer in increasing panic, so Dorian puts him out of his misery. 

“Oh, stop it, you needn’t make excuses for Orlesians being Orlesian,” Dorian says with a false disregard that he hopes Cullen doesn’t see through. “Though, of course, if you want to make it up to me...” Dorian smiles as suggestively as he possibly can, which is, he’s been told repeatedly, very suggestively indeed. 

A single step takes him entirely inside Cullen’s space. He runs a hand up Cullen’s chest, all the way up to his shoulder. Until that moment Cullen’s expression is still cautious, like being too irresistible is something Dorian might berate him about. At Dorian’s touch, however, he forgets all about it. 

“Dorian! Not here, surely!” As shocked as he sounds at the offer, Cullen certainly doesn’t stop Dorian, when he leans in for a kiss. In fact Cullen kisses back without hesitation and slides his hands around Dorian’s waist promisingly low. Then Dorian bites, and then licks inside Cullen’s mouth, sucks on his tongue, and Cullen very decisively adjusts his grip on Dorian’s ass. He walks them to the desk. Just in time, too, because Dorian feels dazed enough to need some support. 

“Oh, definitely here,” Dorian says when they break for air. “Who knows, someone might catch us on our way out. We should make sure we are adequately debauched to deflect suspicion.” More importantly, no one knows they’re here, so the chances of someone interrupting are as low as they’ve ever been. 

It’s amazing, how they truly could use a tumble as an excuse for wandering where they shouldn’t. Back home it would have been a scandal of the kind that could easily ruin reputations and start feuds. Here the Commander of the Inquisition’s forces sneaking away to have sex with a man would at most cause a few raised eyebrows and broken hearts. 

Dorian being a mage, however… 

Some days he thinks the whole South took a good look at every single rule and custom of Tevinter and said ‘the opposite of that’. 

“I, ah. Are you sure that’s,” Cullen’s words falter when Dorian kisses the side of his neck, “a good idea?” 

Dorian doesn’t answer immediately, far too engaged with the more important task of learning the taste of Cullen’s skin. He’s tempted to leave a bruise just above the line of Cullen’s collar, but he’s not quite reckless enough to forget the importance of their quest. He’s thrilled by the thought that he could, in any other circumstance, be that daring with Cullen. 

“The best–yes, like that,” Dorian breathes as Cullen pulls him back with a delightfully firm grip in Dorian’s hair, “the best idea. Just to keep our cover.” Cullen, it seems, knows better than to leave visible marks as well, but the moment he finds the buttons on Dorian’s horribly unfashionable Inquisition uniform jacket, he sucks a bruise right above Dorian’s collarbone. Dorian gasps and retaliates by undoing Cullen’s equally atrocious jacket. Not that he doesn’t appreciate finally seeing Cullen out of armour – the sight is no less impressive than when Cullen is covered in plate armour and fur. Still, he makes short work of Cullen’s belt and sash without even looking; he’s used to garments far more complicated than this. 

“Just–? Oh, Maker,” Cullen’s voice wavers and the words are followed by a moan so loud Dorian has a passing thought that they might truly get caught. 

He doesn’t stop trying to get something resembling a grip on Cullen’s cock through all the layers of his pants. It’s not nearly enough – Dorian wants to have it in his hand in truth, to feel the weight, to taste it maybe. At the thought the rush of excitement alone almost brings him to his knees. He feels too hot, suddenly, and his clothes a size smaller than at the start of the evening. 

Dorian squeezes Cullen through his clothes once again. Before he can figure out the logistics, though, Cullen growls and lifts Dorian up on the desk. Stacks of paper and some knick-knacks tumble to the ground as Cullen pushes him down and then climbs up on the desk as well. Their next kiss is more fierce and leaves Dorian’s lips tingling and bruised. 

When Cullen leans back, he looks at Dorian with a determined expression, and, oh, lust. Lust does look as good on Cullen’s face as Dorian’s dreamed it would. Then instead of kissing him again, Cullen unlaces and starts pulling down Dorian’s pants, moving back like he’s about to remove them entirely. 

“While I truly hate objecting to what you’re doing,” Dorian says, and pulls Cullen closer, “we do not have the time.” 

“We,” Cullen starts, then leans down, presses his teeth to Dorian’s throat. Drags them down, down, and bites Dorian’s shoulder with so much force Dorian almost screams, has to muffle whatever sound he makes with his hand. Oh, the rush of shivery satisfaction that spreads through Dorian, radiates from that bite along with pain, is exquisite. 

“We have time. I’ve heard it’s fashionable here to be late.” 

It takes a moment to remember what Cullen is talking about. Dorian considers how uncomfortable the hard surface of the desk is, how lovely Cullen above him with hunger-dark eyes and kiss-bruised lips looks. 

It’s an easy choice. He pulls Cullen into another kiss. 

They fumble with each other’s pants, get Cullen’s unlaced, both of them just open enough to get their cocks out. Then Cullen lays down, his legs between Dorian’s, their hips pressed together, cocks sliding side by side and when Cullen rocks his hips, the unbearably perfect friction almost blinds Dorian. Cullen bites Dorian’s neck, then the angle of his jaw and finally Dorian’s lips with enough force to make Dorian gasp again. 

When Dorian reaches for Cullen’s shirt, tries to push him just enough to have some space to get it open, Cullen captures his hands and brings them up, holds them down against the desk. Dorian tests the grip by trying, very unconvincingly, to get free, and Cullen tightens his hold on Dorian’s wrists to the point of pain. 

Their kiss breaks when Dorian moans at the feeling. 

“I’m sorry, that’s not–” Cullen apologizes, relaxes his hold and tries to lean up, away from Dorian. Dorian stops him by wrapping his legs around Cullen’s waist. 

“Don’t you dare stop,” Dorian whispers urgently. He tries to free his hands until Cullen is forced to tighten his hold again to keep them in place. “Please just– I need–” 

Without waiting for Dorian to string together a real sentence, Cullen obliges. He snaps his hips forward sharply. The slide of their cocks is too dry and rough, and Dorian feels like there’s fire running through him, all the way from his wrists to his cock. Cullen keeps the thrusts sharp, clearly just as impatient. They kiss again, feverishly, and Dorian feels the edge approaching too fast. 

He’s desperate to come and equally desperate to drag out this exquisite torment. He feels his muscles tense, strain. 

Cullen presses his face into the crook of Dorian’s neck and moans against his skin. Dorian feels wetness, feels Cullen spill between them and it’s enough to bring him over the edge as well. It feels like the best kind of pain, suddenly soothing the itch under Dorian’s skin. He breathes, breathes in the smell of sex and of Cullen’s skin, and– breathes. 

There’s no time to enjoy the afterglow, and the desk is far too hard and uncomfortable under Dorian’s back anyway. Still, it feels like some kind of tender moment, when they share smiles while helping each other redress and fix their tragically mussed hair. 


End file.
